Dancing Out of Tune
by Inconspicuous Acuity
Summary: What Atris was doing during the Mandalorian Wars. LSM Exile universe. [Entry for the greatly delayed holiday challenge. Three chapters intended.]
1. The Memory Remains

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Wars and Knights of the Old Republic, or anything related to it. They totally own me.**  
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**Author's Notes:** _This is my entry for what was originally the 2006 holiday challenge, now greatly delayed due to the glorious alert system of our dear site here._

_The title, I think, deserves some sort of explanation. It goes hand in hand (for me) with the way Atris goes along with the events, and yet she is so... out of them. _

_It was intended to be much shorter than it presently is, but it got out of hand as I wrote and lost count. Therefore, it will be posted with three chapters. Of course, all of them are dedicated to Auros Sopherai, who made this request. Enjoy. ;) And Happy Late Holidays._

* * *

**ONE**

**The Memory Remains**

One by one, the mettlesome passengers descended the ramp, and their faces were flooded by sunlight, gaining the same brightness that the environment was already soaked in. Somehow, Dantooine's sun never failed to appear as a searing presence, an impression that was promptly denied as one stepped on the planet's surface. With all her years of training in the Force, Atris never managed to avoid the pattern.

Today, that bore less importance than ever, since far greater matters weighed on the woman's mind, so she dismissed all speculations on the subject quickly, as she headed into the Jedi Enclave. Its corridors, in their lack of windows, created a strong contrast with the outside, appearing chilly despite the fact that they were not. But Atris was not here to study that, either; the Mandalorian War had gained some considerable proportions and something needed to be organized, before more Jedi decided to go after Revan.

So far, they had only attempted to quiet down the many confused voices in the Order, which, in their need of guidance, were especially loud here, so far away from Coruscant. Of course, Atris was not an official part of that; they had, as usual, sent Vrook instead, like he was any good with people. But she hoped that she might still be able to affect some things, from an unofficial stand, if her friend agreed to help. To tell the truth, she had another reason also – not having seen him in as long as two or three years, she missed him terribly, a feeling that she had to mask carefully; some in the Order might have thought it improper.

At the time, the halls were bathed in an amalgam of Force patterns, with all the Padawans she encountered and the small individual protuberances they created in her general perception; they all seemed to be heading for the same place. As she passed, many of them recognized her, no doubt due to the white Historian robes, and she was able to anticipate their greetings. She reciprocated, as required, but did not stop to chat with anyone; she sought the familiar figure of one of the members of the secondary council here on Dantooine.

As the Force willed it, the first one she found was contained in the diminutive frame of the mysterious Master Vandar, whose origins and race were still unknown to this day, despite all the years he had so far devoted to the Order. Atris greeted him with a small semi-formal bow and Vandar nodded, with what she had come to recognize for a smile imprinted on his face. As a child, she had found his pointy ears to be very funny and they had been the subject of some harmless jokes between her and an old friend, but such thoughts were no more than a distant memory to the adult she was now.

"Has something happened on Coruscant?" was Vandar's first concern, even if calmly formulated.

"No," Atris hurried to deny. "I am not here to represent the others... they've already sent Vrook for that."

"He arrived a few days ago," Vandar nodded, and Atris could notice how tired he was, a detail that had, at first, eluded her. "He is currently with the Padawans whose Masters left."

"Good," Atris acknowledged; sometimes, it could be difficult to show no aversion when it came to the continually moody and displeased Vrook. "But I am not here to speak to him, either. I need to see Jadion Viddas."

Vandar's ears plied themselves along the sides of his round head, for only a moment, before returning to normal. Atris knew that expression as well – it was some sort of unease, similar to when a human shifted his weight.

"He is not here," the diminutive Master formulated his reply with care.

The first thing that occurred to the woman was, naturally, that her friend had gone to war. But as she tried to keep her heart from beating faster, she realized how silly and improbable that was; on the very first signs of unrest in the Order, Jadion had _promised_ her that he wouldn't defy the Council, even if the others would. Perhaps he had gone to try and bring them back, all by himself, which seemed a lot more like him.

"Where is he?" the woman inquired.

"He was... among the first to go with Revan," Vandar replied quietly, a glint of sad compassion appearing in his eyes when he sustained her incredulous stare.

"This cannot be," Atris denied vehemently. "He said..." Her fists clenched and she came on the verge of being unable to control the strange, empty anger she felt. He had broken his promise!

Then, a young girl walked in, a Padawan, and Atris had to recompose herself and smile pleasantly, in order not to look like a fool. The girl didn't mind her much after nodding curtly, though, and her gray-blue eyes turned to Vandar.

"Master Vrook has sent me to ask for assistance," she reported, rather agitatedly. "He says there are simply too many Padawans and too few Masters."

The diminutive figure gave the girl a brief apprehensive glance, then shook his head gently. "There is no emotion, young Bastila," he attempted to diminish her obvious worry. "Remember that; we will find a solution."

"Of course, Master Vandar," she lowered her gaze to the floor. "The other Masters think we could, if more than one apprentice was assigned to a Master, or if we allowed the recently knighted to train."

Atris regarded this Bastila with concealed interest; she was a mere Padawan, inexperienced and a bit insecure, and yet she appeared to possess some special status here, out of the ordinary ranks. Still, however much she wished to elucidate the matter's mystery, this was not her business. She focused back on Vandar, in time to find him sighing heavily; he was about to reply when something seemed to occur to him and he turned to Atris.

"Many Padawans were abandoned in the favor of war," he explained. "Most of them are now confused and in need of guidance."

Atris didn't have to be a genius or exceptionally skilled with the Force to clearly realize what he really meant. She had chosen not to train any Padawans so far; and now Masters were needed. On the other hand, she had no particular desire to see Vrook. He would undoubtedly jump to conclusions about her being here. And still...

_Very well,_ she thought, barely concealing a small sigh. _If I wish to help, I might as well start this way._

"I would be glad to provide for one of them," she offered, as she was expected to.

Vandar nodded, with obvious relief. "Bastila," he addressed the young girl, in his usual raspy voice. "Please show Master Atris the way."

The girl nodded absently and regarded the white-robed Jedi Historian with a hint of curiosity, before starting to lead her along a corridor.

* * *

Her apprentice's name was Vanarth Shard; he was a sixteen-year-old human, more focused on his connection with the Force than any other part of the Jedi training and, if calm and obedient, a bit too secretive to allow the proper development of a bond. At first, Atris had chosen him because, of all Padawans, he had been the one to actually strike her as lonely, abandoned, just like she felt at the time. Now, half a year later, she knew it had been the Force; Vanarth's last Master had been Jadion, ever since his first had died on a mission. 

He even had the same eyes... It was not about the shape and even the color was another, but, to Atris, that expression, that enigmatic way of looking at things was simply unmistakable.

Training was going better than she had expected; the boy was a quicker learner than most and dedicated much time to understanding the Force. But, because of him, Atris could not forget all she would have liked to.

And as if the boy wasn't enough, here he was, the man himself, trying to remind her he existed. _Six months_ and he suddenly seemed to think he could contact her via holonet and smile the way he did.

She had to admit that, even if it was a simple projection in shades of blue, changes were visible on the man's face. He was paler, maybe, and undoubtedly had not slept in a while, with all the worries he appeared to be carrying behind his lost-looking eyes. Alone, the smile was still the same, smooth and kind, speaking of affection.

Why couldn't she tell him that he wasn't wanted? She wished to do it, so much.

The truth was Atris had yet to say anything at all, as she had resorted to pacing the room nervously, while the projection watched her, a bit puzzled, but otherwise patient. Finally, she posted herself in front of him, fists clenched to remind her she needed to look determined and strong, and her eyes flashed.

"Why?" she asked coldly. "Why did you leave?"

He shrugged, his apologetic manner lacking enough interest to actually look convincing. "Is that really the question, Atris? Or is it why I didn't take you with me?"

"You promised you would stay," the woman stubbornly accused again, ignoring his assumption.

"Atris," he breathed out, with a small, exhausted sigh. "I wanted you to be safe at home, that's all. You wouldn't bear through... all that is here."

The woman felt as if her blood was boiling, ready to burst out of her in a million places. How could he claim to know her enough to make a decision in her stead? How could he even think she would have gone to war, anyway, defying all the ideals of the Jedi and everything that the Council had said? For a moment, she regretted he was not there in person, for her to punch some sense into.

"And your apprentice?" she spat, trying to dominate him with simulated, exterior indifference, and wielding the new, graver critique, as a heavy weapon.

"The same," the man replied quickly, before realizing what her new question implied. "Atris?" he probed, insecure. "How did you know I--?"

"I am his Master now," she interrupted briskly. "But if you think your abandon left him unscathed, you are utterly mistaken."

"He's probably safer with you than he could have ever been with me," Jadion argued calmly.

"Indeed," Atris replied stiffly. "You are an irresponsible liar, and you deserve to be--"

She stopped, for the projection blinked suddenly out of existence, then back in, then out for good. The connection was lost and there were so many possibilities... Maybe he had suffered an attack, she thought at first, as she paced the room yet again and waited for another call. But there was none; perhaps he just didn't want to hear more of her frustrated accusations.

Atris felt like a fool; and worse yet, she was sorry that she had not made the courage to tell him she still cared. Most likely, left out as she felt, she never would.

So... alone.

"Yes," she concluded through gritted teeth. "Yes, I blame you."


	2. Impressions

**TWO**

**Impressions**

She had not lost count. Today was exactly two years later than the day she had found out he was gone. Two years since she had agreed to take on an apprentice for herself, unaware of the implications...

So much time was enough to grow fond of your student, especially when he reminded you of someone dear. At times, Atris wondered if Jadion had chosen to train Vanarth because they were similar to begin with, or the bond between them had been close enough to attune one to the other. Either way, the young apprentice had become quite indispensable to her, as he was what kept her self-control in check; it was only for him that she did not succumb to resentment and she managed to still banish the many questions that tore at her.

Vanarth had ceased to be a simple Padawan to Atris; it was almost as if he were her child and she dreaded knowing that, if he continued to study the way he did, it would not be another year and he would be made a Jedi Knight. Then, she would lose him; and with him, part of his former Master, also. She would no longer be able to accompany and support him through the tasks the Council gave him, to make sure he was safe, like she was doing now, on Telos IV.

At first, Atris had been skeptical about how a simple local concern like a serial killer would be worthy of a Jedi's attention. Then, her opinion had changed, once she had seen the victim count: over three hundred in only a couple of months. Moreover, there appeared to be no criteria that the killer used to select those victims, since they belonged to a wide variety of known species, social categories, political factions and the list could go on. However, there was a pattern involved – the killer appeared to have collected a sample of blood or some other interior fluid from each victim.

The TSF had transferred all the data, along with their request, via holonet, for the Jedi Council to look at whenever they found the time. The task, it had been decided, was a suitable test for a Padawan like Vanarth, and Atris was to accompany him and make sure he was safe, but not help with the investigation.

Vanarth seemed to be doing all that was possible at the moment. He had gathered and saved all information on some datacards and was currently examining everything with care, for the seventh time already, looking for the missing selection criteria, while their small freighter was on auto-pilot. Atris had little to do, other than watch him closely, as he hovered over the small display, his fingers fiddling with some button or another and his brows furrowed under the weight of concentration. Such seriousness at that young an age could only be achieved by a Jedi... or one who had been through a lot. And Vanarth was deservedly both.

They were following a course that had also been included with the request, heading toward the planet's polar region, which was one of the things that puzzled Atris: why would the TSF summon them to such a remote location, away from any of the cities where the murders had taken place? Maybe they thought Jedi, with the Force as an asset, didn't work on the field at all. Or, perhaps, as the help request politely suggested, the need for secrecy was imperative, as the killer could flee the planet if he found out about their arrival.

Also, the man who had contacted them once they had entered their course into the navicomputer--

"Master Atris," Vanarth turned his head as he spoke quietly, like he was pondering his every word. "There was something odd about that man."

It was almost as if he had read her mind and Atris couldn't help but stare for a moment.

"I agree," she then remembered to offer her support. "It worries me. He ignored several of the questions we asked, almost as if his attention span was unnaturally small."

"He is not exactly the military type, either," Vanarth completed.

"How would you know _that_?" Atris couldn't help but wonder aloud.

"Master Jadion and I used to... study them, for amusement," The Padawan confessed, lowering his gaze to the datapad in his lap."They have this... tendency to focus on a single thing at a time. This man seemed to be focusing on _too many_."

"True," Atris admitted, shifting uncomfortably in the copilot's seat. This was the first time Jadion had been mentioned between them, after that day when she had found out he had been Vanarth's Master.

And then, like a subtle work of the Force, aiming to soothe and banish all unease from the both of them, the scenery outside exploded into a mass of white as they emerged from behind a mountain. A few hundred mirroring glaziers were intertwined into an intricate chaotic web right in front of them, as far as they could see. Everything scintillated brightly under the touch of daylight, which made the eye twitch in its attempts to follow what looked like sudden movement at the edge of its view range. Frozen canyons opened here and there, like so many laughing mouths or empty eye-sockets staring back at them, while other areas seemed to be covered with innumerable hills of ice.

Among all, a plateau stood out, a mesa so perfectly leveled that one would have thought it to be the work of some sentient race or another. By all semblances, they were going to land there, so Vanarth switched the auto-pilot off and prepared to coordinate the ship, glancing every now and then to the navicomputer and the rows of coordinates it displayed.

Everything went smoothly and the two were no less fascinated when they set foot outside, with very little in the way of proper clothing to shield the bodies from such cold. Taking a full circular view around them left both with the impression that they were enclosed between the walls of some white-spread cage made of ice.

"Master Atris," Vanarth surprised the woman with his polite address.

"Yes?" she turned to face him, ready to offer her assistance, as always, like any good teacher would have done.

"Have you ever been to a place like this before?"

"No," she had to shake her head lightly. "I have seen some other planets that displayed an equally impressive view, but nothing even similar to this. Why do you ask?"

His eyes seemed lost, almost as though they were too small to ever manage to skim through everything the polar region offered. "No real reason," he responded, dismissing the subject. "I thought it to be just what determines one to wear white."

He could be... strange sometimes. "How so?" Atris inquired, arching a brow.

Vanarth shrugged. "I know what it makes _me_ feel like." He paused, a little tense, almost as if he were delving deeper into himself in search of the perfect truth. "I can find no other way to explain it than that now I know... if the Force has a color, then this is it."

He didn't seem interested in pursuing that conversation any more, as his attention focused once he was done speaking and he began to study the more immediate surroundings. Atris did the same, but she invariably knew she would have to think more on those words later. They were simple, and yet rang of a sincerity she had thought unattainable.

It did not take them long to notice the only thing that variated from the plateau's otherwise flawless surface: what appeared to be an oversized rock, covered with the same snow. At a closer look, its purpose as an entrance to some underground complex became more than obvious.

The door required no code whatsoever; in fact, it was open already and had been for some time, since the wind had carried snow inside. That caused Atris and Vanarth to exchange a quick glance in front of the entrance, before stepping carefully inside. If there was room for doubt about the whole thing, then this was definitely the time for it.

A descending corridor took them into a large circular room, buried deep enough to possess a dome-like ceiling that hovered at an impressive height above one's head. A single obelisk-shaped pillar, fixed to the floor and constructed from a material that would have required a closer look for identification, was the single object in the room, which left only air between the man that stood leaning against it and the two Jedi.

This figure was the same as their contact, though the status of TSF officer had quickly become the least plausible of his possible attributes. Middle-aged, average build, balding head; he was no one remarkable as a whole. The eyes alone drew all attention upon themselves, as they seemed to lack any sense of an objective. Atris could not, as much as she tried, decide on whether he was looking at her, at Vanarth, at both of them or at the gap in-between.

"Blind?" her apprentice suggested in a low voice, wary of possible reactions from the man.

Yes, he was right, of course. Suddenly, everything made sense: the man could not look at an exact spot because he could not find any that would draw his focus.

"_Not_ blind," he sharply dispelled Atris' new-found certainty, then lowered his chin and began to mutter quickly. "These are Jedi, aren't they? Don't look that special, do they?"

By then, Atris was past certainty and she needed not suggest to her apprentice that this was no TSF agent, either. Vanarth seemed worried enough, with those lines rippling below the skin on his forehead as he frowned, to make clear that he knew already.

"What is the meaning of this?" Atris demanded, remaining polite; she wondered whether she had gained that cold tone other Jedi had told her she could compose. "Who are you?"

"I'd love to introduce myself, believe me," the man shrugged helplessly. "But truth be told, I have forgotten my name." He coughed lightly, then drew in a deep breath, which the two Jedi could swear had been a bit shaky.

"Perhaps we should leave now," Vanarth offered, maintaining eye-contact with his Master, to assure her it was a mere test for the man.

"No, no, no," the reaction was not late at all, in the form of a rapidly spoken monologue. "It's only just begun. There were murders, you know? I guess you do. I killed all those people. Isn't it ironic that I should be the one to summon you here about it?"

Atris' mind suddenly became very busy with placing this strange frankness that simply could not fit in the picture. Why would a man call two Jedi over to bring retribution for his crimes? More precisely, why would a murderer stop murdering and turn himself in?

"Oh, I know what you're thinking..." the man chuckled. "It's easy: I killed them to make you Jedi come. And so you did, like normal people would." He took a break, to shift his weight in a most uncanny fashion, with the same frantic rush he seemed to be full of. "Why are you special, then?" he whined. "Why did _I_ not get taken into that Order of yours? I took blood samples and nothing was different... I swear that Jedi's blood was all the same... maybe I didn't know what to look for. What should I have looked for, Jedi?"

Atris was lost for words, under the weight of a new realization. "This man can feel the Force..." she blurted out against her will, despite the self-control she was supposed to possess. She hated when this happened and had berated herself for it again and again, but to no effect.

When she payed attention again, she noticed the man's steely gaze fixed, somehow, beyond her, into the depth of the corridor that had brought them there.

"So they said..." he mused absently. "They whisper things all the time; and if you don't want to hear, then... well, then they hiss things. Theirs is usually good advice... but why must they take in return for what they give?"

"What exactly do 'they' take?" Vanarth interjected, displaying an acuity Atris wouldn't have thought he possessed.

"Pieces," the man nodded agitatedly, his breath having grown heavier all of a sudden. "I said I wanted them back... but now... they can keep it all... you take it!" His eyes grew wide with unexplainable dismay and his tongue flicked over his lips, to offer some moisture. "Just let me go," he begged pitifully.

Then, the next thing the Jedi knew, he just collapsed; a stiff fall followed by a hollow thud, and he wasn't moving any more. Atris thought the simple scene before her to be far more impressive than any spectacular death – for surely he was dead – precisely through its failure to offer any time for a realization of what was happening. A few moments went by in breathless silence, before the woman was conscious of her accelerated heartbeat and her clenched teeth.

_There is no emotion, there is peace..._

Her eyes came to rest upon her no-less-shocked apprentice and she swallowed tightly, managing to recover a part of her rational relaxation. She would not have realized she felt pity, hadn't it been for the expression of such an emotion in Vanarth's eyes. But seeing it there made its recognizance much easier within her own self.

"Return to the ship... and contact the TSF," she instructed gently, as she began to head for the significantly wider corridor on the other side, whose lack of walls revealed the dark abyss below. "I will try to determine the cause of his madness."

Vanarth agreed with a brief nod and Atris headed for the huge doorway she could see on the far-away end, treading carefully. She wondered if that would need a pass-code and, in case it did, whether the pass-code could be found or if it was even possible to carve a way through such an alloy with a lightsaber. The number of uncertain factors in that row of thoughts almost made her shiver; it was not proper of a Jedi not to be certain solutions could be found.

But it was all pointless – the doors opened at her approach of her footsteps, leaving her with a most uncomfortable impression that they had been waiting for her, precisely.

And then, she came to make sense of all the man had babbled about. That, inside, was the vastest collection of Sith holocrons she had ever laid eyes upon. Somehow, it seemed like the perfect place to bring the others that she had discovered. She would tell the TSF to leave the place for the Jedi, as her Historian duties required...

Though... was it not a Historian's duty to inform the Council of the discoveries that were made? She should tell them about the holocrons... all of them.

No. She was to share any useful knowledge, indeed. But this was a different matter; her duty was to keep those dangers away from any who could damage them... and from anyone they could damage.


	3. Facing Consequences

**THREE**

**Facing Consequences**

As Atris looked out, over the many platforms and sun-bathed skyscrapers, she only saw one thing: Coruscant was restless, perhaps even more so than usual. Something in the air, or in the intricate web of the Force, warned the Jedi of things to come that they were unable to predict, and they were restless also. Consulars prodded the Force for glimpses into the future, but nothing was offered to them.

Vrook had been recalled from the enclave on Dantooine. Many others were told to postpone whatever missions they were currently undertaking, if it was not too detrimental to anyone's immediate well-being, and to return to the place where they could at least be offered the illusion of safety. Atris and Vanarth had been on Coruscant for a couple of weeks already, the apprentice soon to be knighted on a quickly approaching appointed date.

The woman could not find peace anywhere, feeling the need to roam the upper floors from district to district, in her unsuccessful attempts to remain calm. There was a wish that gnawed at the remote reaches of the heart that, despite being a Jedi, she still possessed: to panic, just this once, like every regular citizen would have been able to do. To completely lose all lucidity, however, was the privilege of the innocent, and she was no such thing.

Vanarth often followed his Master, a silent part of her countless strolls, a shadow that understood and said nothing. Sometimes, she wondered if any of them was still a Jedi, after all. What was a Jedi, actually? The notion was so lost in the depths of time, hidden in ages past, no longer reachable. There were as many perspectives on Jedi as grains of sand on Tatooine and no one was even concerned with the pure, absolute truth anymore. Doubt bore into her until, finally, she could not bear all of it.

It was a warm afternoon under a sky covered with tints of azure and mild orange battling for supremacy; it was a bit strange to know that, eventually, both would succumb to the deep nuances of the night. Theirs was rendered a pointless struggle, by that, and yet there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Maybe that was the fate of all conflict.

Nevertheless, she chose that day to take a walk longer than any before, and she finally stopped at the edge of known territory, where she was almost lost in the labyrinth of structures. Behind her, faithful and quiet, her apprentice came to a halt also, waiting for her to be done thinking. When she turned to face him, his eyes bore into hers, the question already there; he knew she was going to ask him something as sure as she knew the night would come.

Atris couldn't help but smile to him a little. "I would not wish to place a burden upon you," she began tentatively, though directness could rarely be avoided for long with one as silent and patient as Vanarth. "But you will be made a Jedi Knight soon, and I was wondering... what is the Order to you? How do you see the Jedi?"

The apprentice almost offered a shrug, but stopped before the gesture became prominent. "There are many ways," he answered decidedly. "But I learned the best definition from you: misunderstood."

Atris nodded; he was allowed to form his own opinions now. She often happened to share them, but not this one, and she wondered how exactly it had been her that offered it to him. The Jedi simply could not be just 'misunderstood'; too much depended on them.

"What do you think of the unrest, Master?" came his own turn to ask something.

"I don't know," Atris admitted. "Not for certain. The Council thinks something is about to happen that will impact the entire galaxy. That is why the Jedi must be together, where they can draw strength from each other."

"So we've been told..." Vanarth mused, and it was one of those times when he managed to sound so much like Jadion.

"You don't think that?" Atris inquired.

"I never... said..." his words were lost gradually, after only a small attempt to get back on track, and his mouth remained barely open, his eyes lost in the distance, distracted from the present.

Atris could clearly see that he was not looking at anything material, even as he headed for the platform's edge, rather disoriented.

"Vanarth?" she probed, insecure, not knowing whether to follow. She felt stupid, incredibly stupid, standing there and staring as he departed with the steps of a drunk man, unable to do anything simply because she had had no way to anticipate this turn. How much one could come to rely on the Force...

And suddenly, her apprentice staggered, then fell to his knees; there, he pressed a palm forward, into the cold durasteel below him, trying to make a stand, shaky as he was. Atris rushed over to him and knelt also, not caring about the fate of the immaculate white of her robes as she tried to look him in the eyes.

"Vanarth, what happened?" she demanded precipitously, worried.

He raised his head a little, weakly, mumbling. "All those screams..."

His eyes were completely devoid of expression, and Atris felt a shiver cross down her spine.

"What screams?" she asked, broken, at a loss for what to do.

"It wasn't... me... that heard them... it was him."

Atris could feel how disturbed he was and knew nothing better to do than just hold him. It took a few moments for her to realize that she held someone who had just died. Someone who had not yet been taught his final lesson, that of how to transcend and become a part of the Force. The chance was now lost forever to him.

Later, minutes maybe, while the woman still could not bring herself to act, Coruscant received a top priority transmission and it roared with the joy of victory and the already beginning preparations to celebrate: the Mandalorian Wars were finally over.

Alone, indeed misunderstood, the Jedi did not see any victory there.

* * *

Instead of the Council meeting they had first intended, to discuss the hidden threat they had all felt, whose time had come at last, they soon found themselves holding a trial. And that was due to the unexpected arrival of a lone Jedi from the war: Jadion Viddas. 

Atris signed his death immediately and vehemently sustained the solution from the chair she proudly occupied, looking distant. Despite all that, the actual penalty was exile and Jadion, who still managed to seem so right despite the wrongness, surrendered his lightsaber wordlessly and strode out, as empty and indifferent as he had walked in. Speculations were made, but Atris listened to only so little.

The first thing she did was seek him out for a private word, before he left. She found him sitting in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and staring at the water as it cascaded down all around, creating chaotic ripples in the ponds below. It seemed to reflect in his eyes rather than to make them follow it in its restless tracks.

"Jadion," she called, doing her best to be calm, even if she felt like forgetting everything and just strangling him.

The man turned slowly, his tired features now exposed to her sight and there was a certain hollowness in his entire demeanor. He said nothing.

But she had to ask. The question had been eating at her heart for the past few days, incessantly.

"What happened at Malachor?" she took no measures in order not to hurt him with those recent memories. She didn't care if she hurt him. All the better.

"All those people died at once," he said, mechanically. "You wouldn't understand... you weren't there. You don't know what it feels like, to hear so many screams at once, merged into one enormous wave that you can't escape, no matter what."

"Just as I had thought..." Atris mused, not without having to swallow back the painful memory. "The bond was still there, between you. How did you manage to forge it so... unbreakable?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, without taking the effort to look surprised.

"Vanarth," she snapped, turning her back on him before she would cede to the more violent of her impulses. "He died, has anyone told you that? He said you were hearing screams and then he died."

"Hold your anger in check, Atris," Jadion offered coolly.

It was outrageous – he didn't even care... about his apprentice... about her.

"It was _your_ fault," she accused.

"Atris," he imposed on her, his voice firmer than ever, but still emotionless. "I will forget all of this. If it means you must go along with all else, then so be it." With that, he stood and she could hear his robes swishing as he passed by her. "Goodbye, Atris," he finished, without the smallest look behind.

And she was left alone, even more so than prior to the war, when her time needed not be dedicated to anyone in particular and she still maintained polite relations with most Jedi. What had she given it all up for? Nothing. An apprentice that had never truly been hers, because he had never ceased to be Jadion's.

* * *

Time seemed to be ahead of her then, nowadays, always. The difference was that now she lacked the illusion she used to have that she could catch up. History was all that remained and she had spent days, weeks, months making countless immersions into the past and discovering the most insignificant details. _Everything_ was so full of deceit and treachery that it was no wonder the same kept happening all the time. 

She had wanted to go to Telos, to hide the last Sith holocrons whose locations were known to others than her, but she had never found enough initiative within herself. It was almost as if the Force kept her from going, as something had yet to happen. And then, one day it had occurred: Malak's fleet had bombed the planet into utter chaos and nothing was left there except a horrible mess engulfed by an atmosphere that no species would be able to breathe in.

It left Atris feeling like she should have gone there, to die with it.

Alone, Kavar had seemed to notice her daily struggle, though he could not identify the exact reasons. When he was finally done pondering and decided to come her way, stepping into the Archive, she had been expecting the event for a while, complete with the kind smile he offered as he sat across the table from her.

She laid the datapad down and raised her gaze from it to the young Master's encouraging expression. She imagined the scene from a third person perspective – the blue of her eyes, deeper, colder, meeting the warmer, lighter shade of his – and she waited, reminding herself of Jadion's own lack of expression the last time she had seen him.

"I thought I might find you here," Kavar began, warmly, as straightforward as always. "Your troubles haven't gone unnoticed, Atris."

"I know," she replied, then immediately stopped the urge to bite her lip. "And I appreciate your concern, but it is not necessary."

"Atris," the Weapon Master pleaded softly. "Are there no pleasant memories left inside you at all?"

She had, she realized, thought of no reply for that. How odd. Lately, she'd had so much time to think that she was almost certain to have covered every possible subject. And so, she thought again; what was one more time compared to the number of others?

"I... do," she finally admitted, a little more than surprised. "They just like to hide in the shadow of how those things have changed since then."

"At one point, I heard you had taken a liking to Telos," Kavar suggested. "You might want to know a restoration project has been approved by the Senate."

For the first time in many days, interest was sparked in Atris. "Why are you telling me this?" she inquired.

"You could go help them heal it," Kavar replied evenly, beginning to stand. "The Force can offer solutions where technology cannot." With a curt bow and a last chance to cast a meaningful glance her way, the man took his leave, robes billowing peacefully behind him.

"Restore Telos?" Atris soon found herself musing to herself. "Maybe..."

It was an interesting thought. But even more interesting was the other one: those Sith holocrons ought to hold some information more or less remotely connected to the hidden threat...

**- The End... (Or is it the beginning?) -**

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I apologize for any inconsistencies or typos and hereby state that they are my full responsibility. None of these chapters has seen a beta reader (if you don't count me having read it at least three times before posting). Auros, I hope you enjoyed it... and everyone else too, of course._


End file.
